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The Phoenix Rises-- Securing a Future for MATC's Literary Magazine-- Image

MATC’s The Phoenix Literary and Arts Magazine: TYCA-Midwest Conference Presentation on 10/9/15.
Video of the presentation can be seen here:<http://youtu.be/4Q2SoFgY2sI>
Milwaukee Area Technical College Instructor and magazine Faculty Adviser Jason Kolodzyk, along with Instructor and magazine Faculty Reader Jonathan Cardew, gave a presentation concerning MATC’s The Phoenix Literary and Arts Magazine: TYCA-Midwest Conference Presentation on 10/9/15.  The presentation focused on on the following aspects:
  • A brief history of MATC and its community
  • An overview of The Phoenix Literary and Arts magazine and its changing role and vision at the college
  • The students, staff, and institution benefits of embracing a literature and arts magazine at two-year colleges
  • The barriers to successfully maintaining a magazine with limited resources in institutions
  • How to work with and embrace a diverse student population, including working adults
  • Innovative tactics on how to push boundaries and form partnerships inside and outside of the institution
  • Looking toward the future: Finding new ways to maintain what has been built, including questions and ideas from conference audience members
Goal of the Presenters:
Our hope is to find new ways to support such magazines within MATC and also to connect with other educators with similar dreams of creating or revitalizing their own institutional literary and arts magazine.
Fahrenheit 451 is not an option; sustained rebirth is– especially with the continued communication and support of those whom see value in the Voice of our society.
PowerPoint:The Phoenix Rises– Securing a Future for MATC’s Literary Magazine

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2013-14 Phoenix now available!

 

Phoenix2013-14-Cover429
Read nowEnjoy.

 

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Staunch MATC Phoenix supporter Jonathan Cardew was recently featured in the Atticus Review!

 

Not only is Jonathan a MATC English Instructor, he has given his personal time and effort to drive the MATC Phoenix forward and currently acts as a voluntary faculty reader for the magazine.

He even plugs our very own MATC Phoenix in the interview!

Follow this link for insight into Jonathan Cardew’s writing thought process and for a sample from his creative works.

.Thank you, Jonathan, and congrats!

 

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Open Mic event 

THE MATC ENGLISH DEPT & THE MATC PHOENIX PRESENT

HOSTED BY THE MATC PHOENIX Student Editors

Open Mic 2015 Poster

 

WHEN: Thursday, April 30th from 12:30-2:30 pm

WHO: ALL students, faculty, and staff are invited to participate!

The general public is welcome to be part of the audience.

WHAT: Sharing creativity through poems, essays, fiction, nonfiction, art, photography, and music.

WHERE: Stormer Auditorium (T Building) at the Milwaukee Campus

FREE STUFF: Free issue of MATC’s Phoenix Now: Flash Fiction   magazine with attendance and newsletter sign up!

QUESTIONS?: Jason Kolodzyk, Faculty Adviser for MATC’s The Phoenix: kolodzyj@matc.edu

 

MATC is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution and complies with all requirements of the Americans With Disabilities Act

Your Song Your Life, Stolen by Elliot Treasure

Delayed was your departure from this world

Ended with a single stroke of bad luck

Crashing your dreams, like the bottle to your scalp

He had but one job, one important role to play

Yet he failed you, didn’t he?

 

Drinking away his days, for what?

Sure the apartment was small

One wife, one daughter

Crammed into one tiny room

Was it really that bad?

 

You had always made the honor roll

Skin fair, with hair as red as the rising sun

Stranger to cops, Respected amongst peers

A daughter he should have held dear

 

Wife had always been at his side

Bills paid on time, friends covering his back

Pay was steady, albeit not that great

Was it really that bad?

 

Life was hard for you, because of him

Disgusting, loathsome, drunk

No one should have ever called him father

He had but one job, one important role to play

Yet he failed you, didn’t he?

 

To celebrate your rise, yet cause an untimely demise

Forced to wake amongst the living, yet imitate the dead

Sentenced to life, with no parole

He had but one job, one important role to play

Yet he failed you, didn’t he?

 

Though, you never complained

Rather, you sought a new life

Following down a different path

Forging something true, something you knew you had to do

 

I remember the days you spent honing your craft

Polishing, re-stringing, practicing on that six string of yours

Performing on every street corner

Auditioning every chance you got

Perfecting something true, something you knew you had to do

 

Lashing out in defiance

Speaking to all who would hear

Targeting the children of misfortune

So they may know, they are never alone

Above all else, you wanted to show the world

You would no longer be the victim

 

Ironic?

 

To have come so close

Yet yield no respectable resolution

Such is the way of this world, some days

On the other hand though

What else did you have to lose?


Dominic, by Veronika Greco

Dominic

We think he has Downs

Crying, anguish, fear, distress

He looks different- but maybe they’re wrong

No, it’s true- what am I going to do

Love him, squeeze him, praise Him, teach him

Cool glasses Dominic!

Four eyes – four eyes (taunting)

Momma – no 4 eyes – only 2

I know sweetie, they can’t count

Those foot braces look awesome!

He runs like a chicken (taunting)

Momma – no chicken- I go fast

I know sweetie, first place, first place

Time for speech

Duh, duh, duh, duh (taunting)

Momma- no duh, duh – I talk good

I know sweetie, they just couldn’t hear you

Re-tard, Re-tard (taunting)

Momma – no re-tard- I smart

I know sweetie, I love you

 


Voices of the Phoenix–Episode 1

 

This is the first podcast of ‘Voices of the Phoenix’.  The poem ‘Mistakes’ is the literary piece. The files below are available for download.

For your convenience, we have also included the poem below.

 

Podcast Files

Voices of the Phoenix–Ep 1-Podcast of the Poem Mistakes-Part 1 of 3

Voices of the Phoenix–Ep 1-Podcast of the Poem Mistakes-Part 2 of 3

Voices of the Phoenix–Ep 1-Podcast of the Poem Mistakes-Part 3 of 3

 Poem File

Poem-Mistakes–PDF

Mistakes

We live our lives day after day

We’ve all had things in life that we wish we hadn’t done

Things that have happened as result of others’ actions

Things we have no control over,

due to not being able to change the past

All we have is our ability to control our present,

and our future;

These things, we call, Mistakes

 

You cannot run away from your mistakes,

As they will live with you,

In the back of your mind like a constant reminder;

Hoping to find your peace of mind,

Is a needle in a haystack

There is no peace of mind,

You can only ease it away,

But it’s always there

It’s a constant knocking on your head,

Telling you to hide yourself,

Don’t let them in,

Because you made a mistake to be hurt.

Even others, they have other problems,

More so like

Not letting your own family in,

Hiding yourself farther and farther in the darkness,

To soon be overwhelmed and feel hopeless.

 

These things we cannot change,

But for us to move forward,

We must move on from our past mistakes,

Even if they were not our own fault or reasoning to.

Worst things you can do, is to hide away,

Not ever trying again,

Not letting the ones who mean the most to you truly in,

Drinking the pain away,

Getting high every day to ease your mind as they destroy your inside,

Even suicidal attempts.

 

Nothing in our power will change the past,

Only to what we do with changing our present,

And our future.


Mistakes by Joshua David Wright

We live our lives day after day

We’ve all had things in life that we wish we hadn’t done

Things that have happened as result of others’ actions

Things we have no control over,

due to not being able to change the past

All we have is our ability to control our present,

and our future;

These things, we call, Mistakes

 

You cannot run away from your mistakes,

As they will live with you,

In the back of your mind like a constant reminder;

Hoping to find your peace of mind,

Is a needle in a haystack

There is no peace of mind,

You can only ease it away,

But it’s always there

It’s a constant knocking on your head,

Telling you to hide yourself,

Don’t let them in,

Because you made a mistake to be hurt.

Even others, they have other problems,

More so like

Not letting your own family in,

Hiding yourself farther and farther in the darkness,

To soon be overwhelmed and feel hopeless.

 

These things we cannot change,

But for us to move forward,

We must move on from our past mistakes,

Even if they were not our own fault or reasoning to.

Worst things you can do, is to hide away,

Not ever trying again,

Not letting the ones who mean the most to you truly in,

Drinking the pain away,

Getting high every day to ease your mind as they destroy your inside,

Even suicidal attempts.

 

Nothing in our power will change the past,

Only to what we do with changing our present,

And our future.


Phoenix Now, Issue 3: Reawakening

Phoenix Now–Issue 3–Reawakening


The Space Between the Raindrops, by Tawanda Jones


Michelle Clark stared across the dinner table at the two women sitting across from her. Patricia Sims and her daughter, Dana Sims. Patricia had adopted Michelle eighteen years ago when she was just a baby.  The dinner routine was going as it always had: Patricia and Dana conversing amongst themselves and barely paying any attention to her. If Cory, Patricia’s husband, were at the table tonight, then she would put on a front and make pretentious gestures toward Michelle acting as though she cared: “Oh Cory, did you know Michelle is getting an A in her microbiology class. She is so smart!”  Or  “Cory, Michelle made the honor roll again!”  But Cory was out of town on business. His position as a pharmaceuticals representative often kept him away. “Ma, do you think I need my hair done again? I just got my ends clipped last week, but I want a new style.”  Dana was saying. “No sweetie, your hair is fine. It has grown so long now! I’m glad I’ve been letting you go every two weeks to La’Avores beauty shop, it’s working.” Michelle rolled her eyes in disgust.  La’Avores was an expensive hair shop, and Patricia never let her go there, not once. Even though her hair could use some special treatment. It was short, uneven, and often a pain to manage. She glared into her plate and started poking the meatloaf with swift, sharp jabs. “Don’t play with your food! How old are you anyway?” Patricia snapped. “I’m eighteen, Patricia.” Michelle said.

Patricia had long ago forbidden Michelle to ever call her ‘mom’. She could remember being around 4 years old when Patricia had sat her down in a big chair near the living room window and  had  explained to her that she was adopted, and to never call her mom. “I’m Patricia to you, sweetie. Okay?”  Michelle had nodded, looking past Patricia at the raging thunderstorm and large raindrops pelting the window.  It was then when she had first developed her love of rainstorms. It was then that she first started to crave the space between the raindrops. She had wanted to be anywhere but in that room with Patricia. Her little heart had been broken. Patricia was a pretty woman with rich, flawless brown skin and  beautiful dark eyes and long black hair. She had always been so proud of her, and she had especially loved it when others told Patricia that although adopted, Michelle still looked like her. Patricia was the only ‘mommy’ she had ever known, and now she was telling her to call her ‘Patricia’?  I can’t let her see me cry…  And so focusing hard on the rainstorm had helped her to keep her tears in place.  Patricia had talked, but Michelle was outside in the rain, floating in the spaces between the raindrops. “Child, are you listening to me?” Patricia snapped. Startled, Michelle had turned her eyes from the window back to Patricia’s face. She nodded. “Yes Patricia.”

As she now sat at the table remembering that awful experience, her eyes watered and the sharp precision of the room dissolved into blurred waves.  “You ought to be thankful you can eat this good, some foster kids don’t have anything.” Dana said. Michelle blinked and the room became clear again. Michelle looked at Dana. She was a tawny complexioned girl, lighter than both she and Patricia, with long wavy hair and greenish gray eyes. She was only two years younger than Michelle. “Dana, I’m not a foster kid, I’m adopted. You know that.”  Dana shrugged. “Tomatoe, tomato.”  “Dana!” Patricia gave her a stern look, but the little smile belied it. Anger, hot and hard, rose in Michelle. She jumped up, and with one swipe of her arm, sent her plate crashing to the floor. “I never asked to be adopted by you! I would rather be anywhere than here! Why did you adopt me anyway? Was it for the check!”  She glowered down at them. Dana was nervous, and caught off guard. Michelle had never snapped on her like that. She darted a glance at Patricia, who stared stonily at Michelle with watchful but veiled eyes. “Clean that mess up and go to your room. When Cory gets in tonight he will hear about this.”  Michelle could hear the rainstorm starting within her. She looked at Patricia challengingly “You clean it up your self.” And she ran up to her room. By now, the rainstorm was pelting inside her head.  And as she lay in bed, she sought that space between the raindrops. It was the secret place she went to whenever she felt the haunting loneliness, and when she felt unwanted. It was her sacred childhood palace that Patricia had unknowingly helped her to build. Was there any space between raindrops? If so, how did they remain dry and unaffected from everything going on around them?  For years, she had longed to occupy that space, where she too could feel protected and unalienable. Nothing was ever good enough for Patricia. She earned A’s and was always on the honor roll. She had already received numerous scholarships from ten different prospective colleges. Yet Patricia lurked behind a curtain of indifference. But last week when Dana got a B in geometry, the whole family had to go to Red Lobster to celebrate. Cory was a lot nicer and Michelle knew he was proud of the fact that she had earned scholarships and wouldn’t have to pay for college. “When you graduate, I’m getting you something special.”  He would often say. “You need to tutor Dana so both my girls can bring home A’s!”  And he’d always tell her that she was a genius. “Girl, you get A’s Microbiology? I didn’t know we had a rocket scientist living here!”  Michelle was taking a pre-college Microbiology course at her high school. She wanted to major in Natural Sciences when she went off to college in the Fall. Cory was so funny and amiable, and didn’t treat her unfairly. He was at least ten years older than Patricia. Michelle was three years old when he and Patricia married, and Patricia had gotten pregnant with Dana.

Up in her room, Michelle nodded off for like thirty minutes when she heard a knock at her door. She looked at the clock, it was 8:40pm. “Yes.”    “Michelle, Cory wants to see you downstairs.” It was Dana. She sounded smug. Michelle waited until she left and then trudged downstairs into the dining room where Cory sat, sorting through papers. He looked up and smiled. “The other women told me you had a bit of a meltdown.”  Suddenly she was agonizingly aware of how they might’ve portrayed her to him. She felt like he must think she was nuts! “Uh, it’s a long story.” She said, as she sat down.  “They kind of ganged up on me. And when you’re gone, they treat me bad. Patricia never pays any attention to me.”  His eyes moistened. “I know. I mentioned this to Patricia, but she thinks you should go see someone. She wants you to be institutionalized. She thinks you are unstable and a threat to the family. But that’s outrageous. I told her she knows better than that.”  Michelle felt as if the air around her tightened. She felt weak, like her strength was beginning to ebb from her. Then anger. Her stomach churned and she could feel herself getting hot.  But she gained composure. “Michelle, I’m not blind, I know that although Patricia loves you both, she has been more favorable with Dana. It’s not right. I told her over my dead body would I allow her to institutionalize you, because she and I both know you are not crazy. You’re a genus! I want you to continue to get good grades, graduate next semester, and go to a great college. Don’t be discouraged by anyone. I’ll keep working on Patricia, okay?” Michelle felt a twinge of sympathy for the balding man. He was such a good man, and yet she knew that he was putty in Patricia’s hand. She knew that he was madly in love with her and gave her whatever she wanted. They lived in this big beautiful home because Patricia had wanted it, and he got it.  It must have taken a lot for him to stand up to her. Although her seeded resentment of Patricia now full bloomed, she masked it.  “I won’t let you down, Cory.” She gave him a hug and started to walk away. “Since your going up, could you put this box in the attic for me?”  She turned to get the box of files and odds and ends. Cory was a pack rat who never wanted to throw out anything. He kept lots of stuff in the attic. The attic was large and cavernous, but always neat and very well lit.  Michelle sat the box down and started venturing around. She had never really taken the opportunity to see what all was up there. She saw crates and crates of all of Dana’s old toys, school pictures from grade-school, etc. But nothing of hers. A sudden thought to go and burn them in the backyard fleeted through her head. She laughed at the absurdity of the thought. At least that would give Patricia a real reason to commit her to an institution. Her foot suddenly hit a metal case. She opened it up and found old musty pictures of an older man with a broad nose and dark skin. Who is this?  She wondered. She also saw baby pictures of herself and Dana, and another picture with the older man and Patricia’s mother, Ann, kissing. Oh, this must be Patricia’s father. She had never mentioned him and Michelle had no recollections of him. Ann was now deceased. She was a beautiful woman who had actually cherished Michelle for awhile. Then suddenly and unexpectedly she became distant. One day Michelle looked up and ‘gram gram’ had stopped coming around. Deep inside, Michelle knew it had to be because of Patricia somehow. Maybe Patricia was jealous of how much gram gram had loved Michelle, and had barred her from coming? She put the photos away and went back to her room. She had to get some sleep. Tomorrow after her classes, she would be going over to Sunridge Nursing Home to do volunteer work. It would be her first time volunteering there.

The next day after classes, Michelle found herself walking the hallways of the nursing home with Elsie Cruz, one of the volunteer coordinators. They were visiting elderly patients, delivering mail, and transporting patients in wheelchairs to and from errands. Michelle found it inspiring and fun. The patients were so kind and loving. It reminded her of gram gram. When they came to room 336, Elsie paused. “Mr. Bradford is kind of disgruntled sometimes. He’s always muttering confusing things. Don’t let it faze you. He’s still a sweetie.”  They entered the room and Michelle froze. A chill went down her back, raising her nape hair. The man on the bed looked up at her and his mouth dropped open. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He lifted his trembling hand and pointed at her. It was the man from the photo! He was older, much older now, but she recognized him instantly. “Mr. Bradford, we’re just here to help you. Here’s your mail. And here’s a gift basket.”  Elsie said. His eyes stayed fastened to Michelle, and hers on him. Was this Patricia’s dad? She said he had died in Vietnam. Elsie’s pager went off as she was undoing the gift basket. “Oh my gosh, I’ve got to take this, can you finish unwrapping this? I’ll be right back.” She skipped into the hall. She had completely forgotten to tell Mr. Bradford Michelle’s name. Michelle found her voice. “You know Patricia, don’t you?”   His eyes moistened. “Yes Michelle, I’m afraid so….”

Back at home, Michelle was glad to see that no one was home yet. She hurried to the attic and dug out the photos again. Then, just as Mr. Bradford had told her, she tapped on the seventh floorboard until it lifted, and saw a black folder. Her hands shaking and her breath shallow, she opened it and saw her birth certificate and several other records. She immediately read it and all of the other records and saw that everything Mr. Bradford had told her was true. A wave of numbness spread fanwise from her stomach over her entire body. An organic sense of dread seized her. She grabbed the folder, replaced the floorboard, and went to her room to get her coat. I’ve got to make copies of all of this. Her eyes were wide and unseeing as she rushed out. When she got home, Patricia was almost done with dinner. She was expecting Cory very soon, so she had  prepared his favorite: fried buffalo fish with spaghetti and garlic-butter biscuits. “Get ready for dinner, you look ghastly.” Patricia snapped. With a sardonic smile, Michelle went and washed up.

Around the dinner table, everyone was enjoying the meal. But Michelle started to poke at her plate with fierce jabs.  Patricia was standing next to Cory, putting more rice onto his plate. “Don’t start that mess again. Cory, look at her. This is the type of behavior I’ve been warning you about.”  “Sorry mommy”. Michelle said. There was a stunned silence. Patricia almost dropped the dish. “When you were about three or four, I explained that you were adopted and told you that I wasn’t your real mother. I didn’t want you to be confused. I didn’t want to lie to you. I asked you never to call me mother again, and for eighteen years you obeyed my request. Until today. Don’t do it again.”   “Sorry, I won’t do it again mother.” A tear slid down her cheek as she looked at Patricia. “What’s your problem freak, you’re making my mom uncomfortable. Stop it.”  Dana snapped.  Michelle’s eyes stayed fastened to Patricia. Cory looked confused. Patricia shifted from one foot to the other. “Child, what’s wrong with you?”

“Daddy says hello, mommy.”

Patricia dropped the dish.  She was breathing hard and visibly shaken. She darted nervous glances at Cory. “She’s delirious, you see! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”  “Mr. Bradford is my father, and you are my mother. He was dating your mother and you had an affair with him. I found my birth certificate and everything. When Mr. Bradford worked as your handyman, he stole these records and hid them in the attic because he knew you would deny it. Cory, there’s information about Dana in here as well. You don’t deserve this.”  She handed the folder to Cory. Patricia tried to grab it but he stood up and raised his hand to her. “I swear to God, woman, if you try to stop me from reading this, so help me God I will….”   He sat down and read. Patricia clung to Dana and whimpered. Suddenly he lifted his head up with a distraught look in his eyes. He shook his head, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth widened. “Michelle is your real daughter, Mr. Bradford is her father. You slept with Mr. Bradford. And Dana is actually adopted…  Her real name is Kisha Ingram! You faked your pregnancy so I would marry you. That one time when I saw Mr. Bradford kissing you, you told me he was drunk and you cried. I defended your honor, and I beat him up. But all along, you were having an affair with him! No wonder your mother stopped talking to you!”  He was up and edging toward her with malice but stopped and just started to cry. “It’s over.” He said.  Dana was just sitting there in silence, crying. “I’m adopted, I’m adopted.”  She looked over at Michelle with a pleading look. “I-you”  she stuttered. “It all makes sense now. No wonder you look so much like her. Oh Michelle, I’m so sorry!”  Michelle hugged her. “It’s not your fault. Patricia had us all fooled. Here’s information about your real parents.”  “I was such a bad person to you, and you’re helping me?”  Michelle nodded. “I’ve been there. Plenty of times.”  She said, referring to the space. By now Patricia was tearing the whole place up in anger. “You fool! You miserable thing! You’re not my daughter!  You have ruined my family!” She grabbed knife and started to lunge at Michelle but Cory wrestled it from her hand.  “Michelle, call 911 right now. Your mother is going to a special place where she can get some help.” Patricia became limp and fell to the floor.  She put her head in her hands and started muttering desperately, and threatening to commit suicide.  “No one is going to ask me why I did it? Michelle, I thought of you as a curse because of how I conceived you: with my own mother’s boyfriend. It was never your fault. I do love you, you know. I’m so sorry.  It was me, I couldn’t face it…I couldn’t face it…and every time I looked at you, it was a reminder…my mother hated me until she died… I just want to die now!” she screamed, tears cascading down her face. Michelle felt an inkling of sympathy mingled with  pity for Patricia. As she started for the phone, Dana rose and grabbed her hand. “Please, let me.”  Michelle sat and watched as Dana called the police. “I’m so sorry Dana. I loved you so much. I still do.”  Patricia was muttering. “Oh Cory, I love you too. I’m so sorry.”

After they had taken Patricia away, the three of them watched as the van reading  “Sunridge Mental Health” drove off with the squad cars trailing it. “I don’t know how she pulled it off. I don’t know how I was so blind.”  Cory was saying. “She told me she had given birth at home while I was stationed overseas…”  Dana hugged him. “It’s not our fault, Cory.” Michelle’s heart ached as she looked at the broken people before her. She knew their pain. Suddenly strength from an unknown place stirred in her. “We’ll be okay.” She said, hugging them. She was confident that they would overcome this.  Suddenly the space between the raindrops became more occupied. Suddenly, she was not alone anymore.


Phoenix Now, Issue 2!

New  Phoenix Now Issue 2


Phoenix Now Issue 1

 

 Free fantastic, student-created magazine

 

 

 

 

 

Group Poem by: Jason Kolodzyk Brandon Haut Tasha Levy Hollerup Richard Plevak III Elise Boucher

“Narcissistic_culture.com”

 

1. He writes his own news with large, sullen eyes that swallow

whole towns, larger than lives,

    And blends what he “knows” with the things that he thinks through the

headlines and news-feeds and patterns of ink.
But it is nothing, in the scheme of things. Nothing that his sullen eyes
have seen and nothing that his clouded ears have heard.

That make him write with such fervor,

Such passion as the candle burns down to dim.
2. She smells his passion, inhaling fumes from the soaked, bleeding coffee filter,
discarded with his crumbled thoughts, his day’s work undone.
What did it all amount to?  They, the people, read him, but, she thinks,
do they hear his empathic scream?  Is it worth listening to?

And yet, she sits–day in, day out, scratching notes, messages, tapping keys,

Focusing on the dripping clock, on her taxi and her fiancée. And she thinks,

Is this the only place I’ll go? Or can I upturn the shredded paper soil

and late-night roots, and grow beyond the page’s fog?

3.  They stumble in circles like whirlpools, pulling the mists behind, eyes clouded and cold
and drowning in the ice they make, the shards that stab their hearts
Life-force dripping into the soft snow forms the words of their struggle:
This cycle will not end
It will be born again with you, with another, unknown
Pain and love will always be visible to us
    It is the pattern that pulls them together, threatening to tear them apart– again

____________________________

Follow @matcphoenix on Twitter for more info!


*NEW* OPEN MIC EVENT, Tuesday, May 1st at the West Campus from 1-3:30 p.m.

 

THE MATC ENGLISH DEPT & THE MATC PHOENIX  PRESENT

OPEN MIC EVENT

HOSTED BY THE MATC PHOENIX LITERARY & ARTS SOCIETY
 

WHO: ALL students, faculty and staff are invited to perform or be part of the audience!

WHAT: Sharing creativity through poems, essays, fiction, nonfiction, art, photography, music, etc.

WHERE: In the cafeteria on first floor of the main building at the West Campus

WHEN: Tuesday, May 1st  from 1 until 3:30 pm

THEME: While not mandatory, we encourage sharing art, photography, and giving readings of pieces which in any way explore the theme of “rebirth.”

FREE: Free copies of the literary and arts magazine, Phoenix Now, Issue 2, will be given to all participants!

TO PERFORM: Email kolodzyj@matc.edu with proposed content by 11:55 p.m. on April 30th, OR arrive and sign up at the event by 12:45.  Readings will be limited to 5 minutes.

 

Visit matcphoenix.com and follow @matcphoenix on Twitter for more info!


Uggs, by Silver Moua

It started on a girl’s night out. I was meeting up with my girlfriends at a bar called Ugg’s. I was at home getting ready to go out when my phone beeped. It was Kelly. Kelly had texted me to meet them at ten thirty. I paired my denim jeans with a black top and heels. Then I drove to Ugg’s and saw that the parking lot was full.

As I walked in I heard country music. There was a dance floor with red, blue, and green lights in the ceiling. There was a live country band that sang and played their instruments. I looked around for the girls and saw them waved at me near the corner of the bar. I walked down to join them. All the girls had been there. We had drinks after drinks. Laugh after laugh. We had taken at least ten cherry bomb shots. I started to feel hot and my head started to spin. The alcohol started to kick in my system. I stopped drinking after my sixth bottle and had watched the rest of  the girls get drunk. They talked, yelled, and laughed. I saw couples kissed on the dance floor. Across the room there were guys that played pool. The girls had decided to take another shot when I had gone to the restroom.

When I came out, I made my way around a table of four to get to the bar and suddenly a brown stool flew across my path. A woman had fallen hard on the floor. I stopped. I didn’t know what to do. Should I help her? Should I ignore her? She wore a black sweater with a green V-neck shirt. She looked like she was unconscious.  I stood there for two in a half minutes and stared at the woman on the floor near my toes. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed or offered to help. A man that sat on the right looked down at her. He rolled his eyes then turned back to take a sip of his beer. A woman in a blue shirt had done the same.

A six foot security man came and grabbed the unconscious woman off the floor. I watched the women in the blue shirt as she yelled at the security man. She said she saw him lift up the unconscious woman’s shirt. They had argued back and forth as he held the unconscious woman. Everything seemed like it was a movie that played in front of me. I didn’t know what to do but to let it play. I couldn’t press the pause button or the rewind button. I turned to my girlfriends and they weren’t aware of what had happened. Was I the only one that watched it?

As the man held the woman up, another man came. He was about five feet five wearing a gray shirt. He bent down on both of his knees and attempted to zip the woman’s sweater. I couldn’t stand it any longer and went to ask him if he needed help. When I went to ask him, I saw the woman’s two breast hanging down just like her head was. Her shirt and bra was high up to her collar bone. Her eyes were closed and her legs were heavy to the floor. The man in the gray didn’t look at or answer me. I saw that he had a hard time zipping her sweater up to cover her naked chest. I wasn’t sure if the man came with the woman, nor if he knew her at all. Then the security carried the unconscious woman out the door. Before the man in the gray exited, he took the woman’s purse and shook hands with the man that rolled his eyes. I couldn’t help it but feel scared. Not for me but for her.